Harry Potter and the Ancient God King
by The Evil Author
Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King, Part 1

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka the Evil Author  
  
Email Address:  
  
Spoilers: Everything!  
  
Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what. 

Disclaimer: Characters and concepts belong to their owners who I'm too lazy to list.

* * *

"Hi, guys," Neville greeted the trio as they sat down for the first DADA class of the year. "What do think of the new teacher?"

"She's probably evil," Harry said morosely.

"She seems nice enough," Hermione said. "Give her a chance."

"Too nice if you ask me," Ron added. "I'm betting she's like Lockhart: pretty and incompetent."

"Hello, class!" the new teacher said with bubbly enthusiasm. "I'm Professor Winifred I. Burkle, and welcome to sixth year DADA class." She opened her briefcase. "I'm sure we'll get along all peachy keen like. And if not..." Professor Burkle pulled a misshapen skull from her briefcase and set it on her desk. Apparently someone had shattered it and inexpertly put it back together with liberal use of spell-o-tape. Her voice also deepened and Harry could have sworn her eyes flashed blue. "...you are all welcome to join this vermin on my desk." In an instant, bubbly Professor Burkle returned. "But let's be positive. This year, we'll be covering..."

Discreetly, Harry held out the palm of his hand. Ron and Hermione dropped some coins into it.


	2. The TA

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King, Part 2

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

Summary:

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.

* * *

"Hi, Harry! Thanks for coming," Professor Burkle greeted enthusiastically. "Come on in."

Stepping into the DADA teacher's office, Harry took a quick look around. His experience with previous DADA teachers told him that how they decorated their office often reflected their personality... or at least the personality they wanted to show. The way Professor Burkle had made the office hers was just... bizarre.

There was writing everywhere. Glowing symbols in a riot of different colors were scrawled on the walls, on the ceiling, and even in the air. In a seeming fit of rebellion, several lines here and their wriggled and moved, trying to get away. Harry was sure he recognized calculations out of math books from his Muggle school days, Arithmancy equations briefly glimpsed from Hermione's homework, and even runes from his Astronomy textbook arranged in a large circle. The only concession to humanity was the desk on which the students' homework lay, itself besieged by a small army of equations looking for space.

"Er, Professor, you wanted to see me?" Harry asked, carefully sidestepping an animated blob of zeroes and ones.

"Yes, I did." Holding her wand like a quill, Professor Burkle began scribbling in midair, apparently picking up where she had left off. "It just happens that I am in need of a TA."

"A what?"

"A Teacher's Assistant," she clarified. "I need someone who can teach actual wand spells that all the wizards use."

"You want me to teach classes for you?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Oh, no, just the spellwork," Professor Burkle clarified, not looking up from her work. "I can cover everything else. So, will you do it?"

"Why can't you teach spells?" Harry asked, not giving the Professor an answer right away.

"I don't know the spells worked with wands," Professor Burkle said, her voice getting deeper. She stopped writing, looking down at her wand. "I only got this thing," she held up her wand in what looked like annoyance, "just before the start of the school term. Now will you be my TA or not?"

"You only just started doing magic and you're teaching at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, his mind trying to get around the idea.

Professor Burkle turned to Harry. All trace of the friendly teacher was gone. In her place stood what looked like Professor Burkle, but all the mannerisms had changed to something stiff, forbidding, and perhaps deadly. When she spoke, her voice was the stuff of winter storms and rumbling earthquakes.

"I have been doing 'magic' since before your species evolved," she told him. "I could shape worlds to my whim and make gods cower at my feet. Now I have only a pittance of the power I once had, and this crutch," she shook her wand, "is the only thing that even makes me feel close to my old self." She leaned forward. Although she was shorter than Harry by about half a head, Professor Burkle seemed to loom over him like a giant. "Now, answer my question: WILL YOU HELP ME?"

There was an undertone of mortal threat to her question. For that instant, Harry had no doubt that she would make good on it.

"Okay," Harry finally said. He held up a hand and added quickly, "But only so long as it doesn't interfere with my other classes or Quiddich practice."

He almost held his breath, wondering how Professor Burkle would take the qualifiers he had added. She studied him for what seem like forever, and then nodded.

"Agreed," she said. Then she added grudgingly, "You have courage, enough to stand up to beings that you know are greater than yourself. You have the makings of an adequate warrior." In an instant, the friendly Professor Burkle returned. "Now, Harry, I'm sure you want to go join your friends," she said, guiding Harry to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow then. I'll be showing the Third Years vampires and how to deal with them. See you there!"

The portal stood in the middle of the flagstone floor, visible only as an upright oval shape of shimmering air. Reaching into it, Professor's Burkle's arm disappeared almost up to her shoulder before she drew it back out. In her hand, she held a struggling vampire by the throat.

* * *

"This is a vampire," Professor Burkle lectured. "Note the pronounced forehead ridges, the sharpened teeth, and discolored eyes. Who can tell me a way to destroy vampires?"

A tentative hand was raised.

"Yes, Mr. Clearwater?"

"F-fire?" the student said nervously.

"Are you sure, Mr. Clearwater? You don't sound certain." Professor Burkle winked and grinned at the class. "Why don't we find out? Oh, Harry..." Effortlessly, she tossed the vampire like a rag doll at her TA.

"Incendio!" As he incinerated the vampire, Harry couldn't help but worry what Professor Burkle had planned for his classes.


	3. Sun who?

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King, Part 3

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.

* * *

"Maybe she's going to wrestle a troll."

"No way. It's gonna be a dragon at least!"

Obviously, word had gotten around about Professor Burkle's class with the Third Years. Students were speculating like mad on just what she would be doing for the Sixth Years. Half were eager, half were afraid, and a tiny minority led by one Draco Malfoy was loudly skeptical about the whole thing.

In fact, they were still speculating even as they sat down for class. Sixth year DADA was a large class, including students from all Houses. Harry was secretly proud that three quarters of the class were members of his DA. The remainder...

"...whole thing was just a big trick," Draco was telling anyone who would listen. "They couldn't have been REAL vampires. In fact, I heard that she can't even really work magic. It shouldn't be surprising really. What kind of witch makes us read Muggle books? And the authors? Who in Merlin's name is Sun Achoo..."

"You have a problem with the reading material, Mr. Malfoy?"

Startled, the entire class went quiet and turned to the teacher. No one had noticed her arrive, but there she was standing right next to Malfoy. There was none of the bubbly cheer Professor Burkle normally displayed. She was stiff and staring at Malfoy with a gaze that could chip stone. Harry half-hoped and half-dreaded that she was going to punish Malfoy.

"Er, I was just saying that I don't see how this book is relevant to DADA," Malfoy said quickly.

"Elaborate."

"Well, the book talks about riding horses and swords," Malfoy continued, seeming to gain confidence. "I don't see how this is relevant to magic at all."

"Officers in Muggle armies no longer fight wars on horse back either," Professor Burkle said. "Yet, they still study Sun Tzu. Do you know why?" Her icy glare swept the room. "Does anyone?"

There was an uncomfortable shuffling around the room. Even Hermione, who had told Harry that she had read Sun Tzu before ever heard of Hogwarts, did not raise her hand.

"It is because Sun Tzu wrote about _strategy,_" Professor Burkle said, her voice practically dripping with contempt and scorn that would have done Professor Snape proud. "During your first five years in this school, you learned about your enemies and you were given the tools to fight them. This year, you will learn how best to employ those tools to crush your foes."

"Oh, please," Malfoy said brazenly. Apparently, he felt that Professor Burkle's threatening demeanor was just all show. "What's there to know? Just use the right spell for the right creature."

"You believe I have nothing to teach you, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Burkle asked.

"Well..."

"Oh goody!" Professor Burkle interrupted, her mannerism shifting back to friendly, albeit with a sinister edge. She drew her wand. "Then you won't mind taking the final exam now."

"What? No... wait..." Malfoy spluttered in surprise. He rallied to make a coherent protest. "That's not fair!"

"Fair?" Professor Burkle paused with wand raised, appearing to consider the novel idea. "Oh, right. It would be unfair not to include the rest of the class." A wide grin spread across her face. If anything, it made her look even more sinister. "Well, guess that means everyone gets to take the test!"

A storm of rising protest was cut off when Professor Burkle slashed her wand sideways. Her wand tip left a glowing line from which columns of luminescent green letters and numbers began to fall. Harry thought the effect looked a little like rain.

Then the world dissolved away.

* * *

It was raining. The class stood in what appeared to be a Muggle alley. It was night, but not dark. Meager lighting was being provided by a few light bulbs. Behind the class was a chain link fence. In front of them was Professor Burkle.

Maybe it was the lighting, but Harry thought that the DADA teacher was much paler now. Her hair was also darker and her eyes positively glowed. The most telling change though, was that that Professor Burkle was no longer wearing a robe, but some kind of skintight body suit.

"This is your final exam," Professor Burkle's voice boomed in all its forbidding glory. "Scoring is determined by how long you survive. Points will be awarded for every foe defeated. If you still live after every enemy has been defeated, you will have passed the class for the year."

"What? Are we supposed to fight each other?" someone asked.

Harry could have sworn that Malfoy had thrown him a calculating glance.

"No," Professor Burkle replied. Behind her, glowing white fog appeared to be rising from nowhere. Dimly, Harry could make out shadowy silhouettes in it. There seemed to be a lot of them. Most were on the ground, but there was a group of fliers as well. Professor pointed at them. "You must defeat _them_. And Mr. Malfoy?"

One of the airborne creatures in the fog appeared to dive toward the class. It grew alarmingly large alarmingly quick.

"The dragon is yours."


	4. After Action Review

**Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King**

**Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author**

**Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.**

**Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.**

* * *

Part 4 – After Action Review

"Ha!" Draco Malfoy gloated after the test was over and everyone had returned to the classroom. "I knew it was all a big illusion."

"Really?" Harry asked innocently. "Is that why you ran screaming from the dragon, Malfoy?"

Malfoy flushed. He opened his mouth to reply.

"By the way," Harry continued. "How did it feel to get burned alive?"

"Yeah," Dean Thomas chimed in. "I really didn't fancy knowing what being disemboweled felt like."

"Or trampled," someone else added.

"Or speared."

"Or used as a chew toy."

"Malfoy," Ron snarled at the Slytherin prefect, "if you provoke Professor Burkle again, I'm going to curse you into next week."

Growls of agreement and not a few death glares came from the rest of the class, including Malfoy's fellow Slytherins.

"Okay, boys and girls, settle down now," Professor Burkle called out cheerily. By now, the whole class had pretty much figured out that Professor Burkle's friendly face was a mask. "You all did much better than I expected. Why, you almost made it to five minutes!"

No one said a word or so much as cracked a smile. Professor Burkle was entirely unruffled.

"Everyone, take ten points for every bad guy you defeated," she continued. This caused a slight stir. Almost everyone had been able to take down at least one foe before getting swamped by sheer numbers.

At least we got something out of that fiasco, Harry thought.

"Another five points to Mr. Longbottom for innovative use of a repelling charm, dumpster, and brick wall," Professor Burkle continued.

Neville blushed. He had actually been aiming for a troll and the dumpster had been in the way. The end result was three crushed enemies.

"Five points to Mr. Malfoy for drawing the dragon's fire away from his fellow students."

A round of low snickers echoed around the class. Drawing fire had evidently not been Malfoy's intention to anyone who had seen him in action.

"Five points each to Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasely for outlasting everyone else."

"They only lasted so long because they were helping each other," Malfoy said petulantly, drawing several death glares that he resolutely ignored.

"Of course they were helping each other," Professor Burkle said. "They supported each other, one defending the other when the other was otherwise occupied. The rest of you fought as individuals and went down quickly. Perhaps that should tell you something? Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Professor, are you saying that if we had worked together, we could have stood a chance against that army?" Hermione asked.

"No, Ms. Granger," Professor Burkle replied. "If you had all worked together, you could have _beaten_ that army. Soundly."


	5. Knowing Nothing

**Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King**

**Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

* * *

**

**Part 5 – Knowing nothing**

"So, what do we really know about Professor Burkle?" Hermione asked.

"She's a better teacher than Umbridge," Ron offered.

"Ron, _Quirrel_ was a better teacher than Umbridge," Harry replied. "And he had Voldemort" Ron flinched, "riding around in the back of his head."

"Um, well she hasn't tried to kill one if us yet," Ron suggested. "That puts her ahead of Quirrel and the fake Moody."

"Unless you count that test," Harry pointed out. "In which case she's already massacred the lot of us."

"But she didn't really..."

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione interrupted. "Can we get back on topic?"

"Right. Sure." Ron hesitated. "What were we doing again?"

"Trying to figure out what Professor Burkle is," Hermione told him.

"Well, she's a witch," Ron said. "Isn't she?"

"I dunno," Harry said thoughtfully. "She doesn't cast spells like anyone else. I've never heard her speak her spells."

"Harry," Hermione said, clutching a hand to her chest, "I of all people know that a wizard doesn't actually need to speak to cast a spell."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"Well, she really can't be that bad, can she?" Ron asked. "I mean, what are the chances that Dumbledore would hire someone dangerous to us?"

"Quirrel," Harry pointed out.

"Lockhart," Hermione added.

"Fake Moody."

"So, that's four out of five?"

"Umbridge doesn't count. The Ministry foisted her on Dumbledore," Ron pointed out. "But I see your point."

"Y'know, if you count that one time Lupin going werewolf in front of us..." Harry began thoughtfully.

"Guys! Topic!" Hermione interrupted. "Professor Burkle. Remember?"

"Right, Professor Burkle," Ron said quickly. "Where were we?"

"Dangerous or not dangerous?" Harry said after some thought.

"I think we've determined that she's probably dangerous," Hermione said.

"Y'know," Ron said, a rare look of thoughtfulness creeping over his features, "being dangerous probably makes her a better DADA teacher..."

"Ron!" Hermione said, exasperated. "Topic!"

"Sorry." Ron brightened. "Oh, I know! A witch. Is she or isn't she?"

"She has a wand," Hermione pointed out.

"But she just got it," Harry said slowly. "She told me. Professor Burkle got her first wand right before coming to Hogwarts this year."

"How can she do magic so well if she just got a wand?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "She said she's been doing magic since forever." He frowned, trying to remember the exact wording of the conversation.

"So, Professor's Burkle some kind of magical creature?" Hermione guessed. "It makes sense, but there's laws against nonhumans using wands."

"Right, Hermione," Ron replied sarcastically. "And we all know everyone _never_ breaks the law, right?"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"I know!" Ron said suddenly. "Professor Burkle's a house elf!"

"Does she _look_ like a house elf?" Hermione asked pointedly.

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"Old." Harry said suddenly.

"What?"

"Professor Burkle said that she was old," Harry explained. "Older than our species. She also said something about once having enough magic to shape worlds."

Ron and Hermione both stared at Harry for a long moment.

"Harry, mate," Ron finally said. "I think she was having you on."

"Yeah, Harry," Hermione agreed. "I think Professor Burkle was just messing with your head. I really don't think that she's some kind of god."


	6. Name Calling

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

**Part 6 – Name Calling**

"Harry Potter is an arrogant young snot."

The sound of Snape's voice brought Harry to a halt. He was out in the halls after hours and did not want to get caught. Although wearing his invisibility cloak, Harry had found over the years that the cloak's protection was dubious at best. Thus, he didn't go out after hours without a good reason. Harry had a good reason to be out tonight. Really, he did.

Unfortunately, Professor Snape was standing right outside the Griffindor entrance. There was no way for Harry to get inside without Snape noticing. Harry resigned himself to waiting for Snape to move on.

"What's your point, Professor Snape?" asked a second voice. Harry recognized it as Professor Burkle's "friendly" voice.

"My point is that you should not be encouraging Potter," Professor Snape continued. "He already thinks that he is above the rules. How much more arrogant will he be now that he is teaching your classes for you, _Professor_?" The last word was sneered with as much scorn and doubt as Harry had ever heard Snape utter.

"Oh, Harry's just my assistant," Professor Burkle replied, completely unruffled by the Potion Master's tone. "Besides, from what I hear, any arrogance Harry has is well earned."

Harry had mixed feelings. On the one hand, Professor Burkle didn't even attempt to defend him from Professor Snape's insults. On the other, she had just paid Harry a backhanded complement.

"That just encourages him to break the rules more," Professor Snape growled.

"Rules," Professor Burkle replied, a hint of her other voice creeping in, "are only as good as those who enforce them."

There was a long pause. Harry had visions of Snape going apoplectic.

"Why are you really here?" Snape demanded. "What is the real reason why the Headmaster hired you?"

"He offered me something I wanted," Professor Burkle said neutrally. "In exchange, I am to make adequate warriors out of the students."

"And who are you really?"

There was another pause. Harry was beginning to wonder what was going on when Professor Snape appeared and rushed past Harry's position in a great hurry. He appeared frightened. Harry wondered what he had seen.

After a few moments, Professor Burkle had still not appeared either to follow Professor Snape or just to leave. Checking the Marauder's Map, Harry didn't see Professor Burkle anywhere. Someone named "Illyria" was just outside the Griffindor entrance. But even as he looked, the name vanished from the map. For a moment, Harry wondered if he had imagined it there.

He shrugged. The way in was clear now. Harry rushed to the Fat Lady, failing to notice the heat distortion just in front of the painting. Just as he opened his mouth to speak the password, he found himself... elsewhere.

Harry blinked. He was standing in Diagon Alley. Ahead, Harry could see Professor Burkle rounding a corner. Looking behind, Harry had just enough time to see one of Professor Burkle's portals shrink and vanish from existence.

Okay, he thought, now I'm really in trouble.


	7. Alley Oops

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

**Part 7 – Alley Oops**

Following Professor Burkle under his cloak of invisibility, Harry tried to make sense of what just happened. He had stumbled across one of Professor Burkle's portals and been transported to Diagon Alley. The only way to get back would be to follow Professor Burkle back through another portal. At least it was the only way to get back with a reasonable chance of not getting caught and expelled.

As for how he got here, Harry was still trying to work that one out. He new of three methods of long ranged, instant transport: apparition, floo, and port-key. Professor's Burkle's method matched none of them. Even Hermione had been of the opinion that the vampires pulled through one for that DADA class had probably been an illusion. Now, Harry was having his doubts about that theory.

Harry's thoughts came to a halt when Professor Burkle entered one of the stores. It was Ollivander's. He had never realized that the wand maker was open so late. Diagon Alley was deserted this late at night. Professor Burkle already had a wand, so why was she here?

Remembering how confined the space inside Ollivander's shop is, Harry settled for eavesdropping at the door.

"...have what I require?" came Professor Burkle's intimidating voice.

"Ah, yes," replied Ollivander. "Quite the challenge you set me, Great Lady. Quite the challenge."

"I will take possession of my property, merchant."

"Your wand, Great Lady," Ollivander said. "Eleven inches, petrified wood of an ancient fern tree millions of years old, core of..."

"I know what I ordered merchant." There was a moment's pause followed by a brilliant flash of light that leaked through the gap under the door. "It will do."

Moments later, the door was pulled opened. Harry scrambled back to avoid Professor Burkle colliding with him on her way out. Professor Burkle stopped just outside the shop and stared into the darkness for several moments.

"Your attempts at stealth are pitiful and inadequate," Professor Burkle suddenly said. "Show yourself."

Startled, Harry was about to ask her how she had detected him when several cloaked figures materialized out of the darkness. Well, maybe Professor Burkle hadn't detected Harry at all.

_What of your companion?_ There was no voice. The words just seemed to slither into Harry's mind.

"I meant you also, Harry," Professor Burkle said without turning away from the cloaked figures.

"How..." Harry began as he removed his cloak and moved to Professor Burkle's side.

"Why are you here?" Professor Burkle interrupted, speaking to one of the creature. Harry was sure they weren't human. They didn't move quite right.

_We seek the location of the one called Angel_, one of the creatures "said". _You will give him to us. We have the means to compel even one such as you._

"You overestimate your abilities," Professor Burkle said scornfully.

_And what of this one? _Harry felt something like a vise tighten around his mind. He found that he suddenly couldn't move. His scar started to throb. _Can you fend us all off and protect this one as well?_

"You mistake me for one who cares."

_Out_, Harry thought, his scar began to burn. _Get out of my head! Get out, get out, GET OUT!_ Suddenly, Harry found that he could move again. But his scar was burning worse than ever.

"And you still overestimate your abilities," Professor Burkle added.

_Bah!_ the creature said in disgust. It and its companions shed their cloaks and drew large scimitars. _Then we will cut the knowledge from you!_

If it weren't for the pain from his scar, Harry might have recoiled in horror. The creatures were lithe and sinuous, with glittering pupiless eyes set on hairless heads above a mass of tentacles where their noses and mouths should have been. In the dark, it was hard to tell what color they actually were, and Harry wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

As Harry fumbled for his wand and the creatures circled to attack, the air was split with a series of resounding cracks. Wizards in black cloaks and silvery masks appeared, intermixed with the creatures surrounding Harry and Professor Burkle.

"Potter! We have you n..." one of the Death Eaters began. Then he got a good look at one of the creatures. "What in Merlin's name are you?"

_It's a trap! ATTACK!_


	8. Impromptu Lesson

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.

**Part 8 – Impromptu Lesson**

Because of the near blinding pain of his scar, everything seemed to slow down.

The creatures' scimitars flashed toward the Death Eaters. The Death Eaters in turn pointed their wands and shouted curses. And Harry seemed to be moving the slowest of all.

Something struck Harry from behind. He suddenly found himself flat on the ground watching curses fly through the space he had been occupying. Professor Burkle still stood next to Harry, completely unconcerned with the hexes flying to and fro. She was watching the battle with what might be called mild interest.

There was a bang, and ropes sprouted out of the ground and wrapped themselves around Professor Burkle's arms. With an annoyed shrug, she tore the ropes effortlessly and tossed them aside.

"Harry Potter," she said, crouching down next to Harry. Professor Burkle made no effort at sounding friendly. "What is your analysis of this situation?"

"Flee, mudblood," a voice not Harry's own said with his mouth, "or face the wrath of Vol..."

"I was speaking with Harry Potter, not you," Professor Burkle growled in annoyance. She rapped Harry on the top of his head with her new wand, hard. "Begone."

Instantly, Harry's scar stopped burning. But he was still in pain. He was pretty sure Professor Burkle had left a good-sized lump on his noggin. But Harry could think clearly again.

"Er, thanks Professor," Harry said. He rubbed his head. "Ouch! I think."

"Answer me question, Harry," Professor Burkle commanded. She gestured with her wand, indicating the chaos around them. "What is your analysis?"

"Analysis?" Harry asked dumbly. Most of the combatants were down now, knocked out or worse. There were also several body parts lying around that Harry preferred not to think about. The survivors had backed off from each other, watching each other warily.

Professor muttered something under her breath about slow-witted mortals.

More apparition cracks echoing around them signaled the arrival of more Death Eaters. Behind the tentacle-faced creatures, a column of fire sprang up out of the ground from which stepped more of their kind clad in full armor.

"Um, looks like they've both called reinforcements," Harry said.

"Ah, stating the obvious," Professor Burkle said. The Death Eaters and the creatures went at each other again. "It is an adequate start. What else?"

"Professor, shouldn't we get out of here?" Harry asked, alarmed at the growing violence.

"Why?" Professor Burkle pressed. "What are the pros and cons of withdrawing?"

Harry stared at the teacher in disbelief. "What is this? A DADA lesson?"

"Of course," Professor Burkle replied. "It is the service your Headmaster bargained for."

"So... so all this is just another of your illusions?"

One of the tentacle-faced creatures was thrown by a spell into a nearby wall, hitting with a squishing noise. Something wet and slimy splattered Harry on the cheek. The creature got up again and charged back into battle.

"It is very real, Harry," Professor Burkle said. She tilted her head. "Enough. Now what are the pros and cons of withdrawing our presence?"

"Well, our lives would be in less danger," Harry said, mindful of a hex that hit the ground not two feet from his head.

Professor Burkle just stared at him.

"That's a pro," he added.

"If you say so," she said doubtfully. "What else?"

Harry racked his mind, trying to remember what Professor Burkle had lectured in class. "Going away... would deprive the Death Eaters and... whatever those things are..."

"Illithids," Professor Burkle supplied.

"Right, Insipids," Harry said. "Going away would deprive them of... whatever they wanted. Us." He paused. "That's a pro."

"Better," Professor Burkle said grudgingly. "What are the cons of withdrawing?"

"Um..." Harry looked around at the chaos. "Can't think of any. Sorry."

"Pitiful," Professor Burkle said in disgust. "I see we have much work to do." She pointed to the battling Death Eaters and... In-tepids Harry thought she called them. "Those are our enemies. They are slaughtering each other. Why?"

Harry blinked. Then he realized that the question wasn't rhetorical. Professor Burkle wanted an answer back.

"Uh, because they bumped into each other?"

Professor Burkle return stare was icy to say the least.

"Well, the Inkspuds are here for you," Harry said slowly. "The Death Eaters are here for me. We're with each other more or less." He racked his brain some more. "Are they afraid that if they back off, the other side will make off with us?"

"Very good," Professor Burkle said. "Now, what would happen if we left with neither party but under our own power?"

"Well, presumably, they'd stop killing each other," Harry replied.

"Now you know what the con is," Professor Burkle said.

"That's a con?"

"Having one's enemies slaughter each other with no effort on your part would be to your benefit," Profesor Burkle explained. "Having them stop is not."

"What about your enemies?"

"They are sufficiently numerous that the loss of these peons is of little import to them."

Harry would have reeled at the idea, but he was already on the ground.

A Death Eater seemed to decide that continuing the battle was a losing proposition. He turned and launched himself at Harry and Professor Burkle. As he raised his wand at them, Professor Burkle lashed out with her free hand and grabbed his wand hand. There was sickening crunch and a scream, and suddenly the Death Eater was thrown away from them. Moments later, a crossbow bolt launched by an Ickyspit sailed through the space the Death Eater had been occupying, hitting the ground just between Harry's legs.

"Another pro to leaving," Harry said quickly, scrambling back. "If we don't, we could get killed by the crossfire!"

"Ah, now you are reasoning properly." Professor Burkle followed as Harry backed away from the fighting. "Do you have a destination in mind?"

"Actually, yeah," Harry said. "I know a place. This way." Turning, he ran.

It wasn't a long distance. When he reached the right shop, Harry turned around to make sure no one had followed them. No one had, but neither had Professor Burkle. He had mixed feelings about that. Should he go back for her? She had seemed able to take care of herself.

He turned back to face the shop, and came face to face with Professor Burkle.

"GAH!" he shouted, startled.

"Are you damaged?"

"Only my pride," Harry grumbled, calming down. He looked back the way he had come. "I'm surprised none of those guys followed us."

"I have... slowed them down," Professor Burkle told him. She looked at the shop. "What is this place?"

"It's a joke shop," Harry answered. He fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. "Welcome to Weasely's Wizarding Wheezes."


	9. Punch Line

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.

**Part 9 – Punch Line**

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

As soon as Harry and Professor Burkle had entered the shop, they were greeted by the Weasely twins. The store had a rather standard layout. Rows of shoulder-high shelves occupied the center of the room. Bargain bins and displays were up front. A long counter with the cash register occupied the length of wall next to the door.

As it was well after losing time, the normally raucous and spectacular displays had been turned off. Fred and George were at the counter working over a large stack of paperwork.

"It's a long story," Harry replied. "What are you guys still doing up?"

"Taxes," Fred said with a shudder. "All these rules and regulations… they're a nightmare."

"One of our fellow shopkeepers mentioned that this is nothing," George added, eyeing the teetering stack of papers. "She said that the tax laws in America are even worse."

"Merlin forbid," Fred moaned. "These make Professor Snape's classes look like rip roaring fun."

"So how'd you get all the way here from Hogwarts, Harry?" George asked, changing the subject to something infinitely more pleasant.

Harry's mind froze. He suddenly remembered that he had been out of Griffindor Tower well after curfew without a pass. Now Harry was not only out of Griffindor Tower and the school, he was all the way over in London. How was he going to explain this? Especially since Professor Burkle was right there with him and she certainly hadn't given him permission…

"Harry came with me," Professor Burkle said, interrupting Harry's runaway thoughts. Professor Burkle was in full "friendly" mode; something Harry knew was a sham. He wondered what she was up to.

"And who is this lovely creature?" Fred asked, pushing forward. In his case, his friendliness was much more genuine. "Are you Harry's new girlfriend?"

"Oh, no," Professor Burkle giggled. Giggled? The incongruity with what he knew was real made Harry's mind spin. "I'm much too old for him. I'm his DADA teacher. My name's Winifred I. Burkle. My friends call me Fred."

"Really? My name's Fred, too," Fred said, shouldering past Harry. "Nice to meet you."

"Right back at ya."

Watching Fred flirt with a teacher brought Harry mixed feelings of bemusement, muddle confusion, and downright alarm for Fred's safety.

"So what does the 'I' stand for?" Fred asked.

"My middle name," Professor Burkle replied. "Nothing important."

"Harry," George hissed, pulling Harry aside. "What are you doing bringing a teacher here?"

"We ran into some Death Eaters and other… things," Harry replied in a low whisper so as not to be overheard by the flirting Freds. "Why? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" George echoed, aggrieved. "Don't you realize what's happening? A lot of our customers are Hogwarts students. Do you think they'll keep buying our stuff if you clue the teachers in on how they work?"

"Fred doesn't seem too concerned," Harry argued, beginning to feel really disagreeable. He'd been attacked by Death Eaters and other… things not ten minutes ago. Yet here George was more concerned about his profits that Harry's well being.

"Fred knows what he's doing," George said loftily. "He's distracting the teacher, keeping her from learning our secrets."

They turned back to the two Freds.

"…eat one half and you get a nose bleed," Fred - Fred Weasely that is - was saying. "Eat the other, and the bleeding stops!"

Harry and George glanced at each other. George had the courtesy to look embarrassed.

"Of course, that would explain Susan Bones the other day," Fred Burkle replied, nodding her head. "She had developed an unexplained nosebleed in my class."

"And you sent her to Madame Pomfrey, right?" Fred asked jovially.

"Actually no," Professor Burkle replied, smiling as if at a fond memory. She didn't notice Fred's face fall. "I used her as the subject for a First Aid class. I taught the other students non-magical methods of helping the injured." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "They were remarkably slow learners."

"Wha?" poor Fred said, bewildered.

"I have a certain number of lessons that I've set aside to teach when opportunity permits," Professor Burkle explained. Seeing Fred's confusion, she elaborated. "I teach certain lessons only if a student supplies the conditions needed for that lesson. For example, I had an student who seemed to be injured, therefore I taught a class on treating injuries."

That would explain some of the stranger classes that Harry had seen. Harry began to suspect that the real Final Exam would be nothing like the one they had in their first class. It would be worse.

And Harry had just figured out how to defeat the dragon too. Darn.

"So," Professor Burkle continued, picking up an inert Portable Swamp, "how much are these?"

"You want to buy a Portable Swamp?" George asked, seeing that Fred was still dumbstruck.

"No," Professor Burkle answered. "I want to buy everything."

* * *

"She cleaned out the store?" Ron asked in awe after Harry related the previous night's events.

"Don't be silly, Ron, of course she didn't," Hermione replied confidently. She neatly folded up today's copy of the Daily Prophet, which had MASSACRE IN DIAGON ALLEY on its front page, and put it away as they arrived at the DADA classroom. Hermione then turned to Harry. "Professor Burkle didn't, did she?"

"Well, actually, Professor Burkle just bought a little of everything," Harry began as he led them into the class. His eyes widened at what he saw. He pointed to the head of the class. "See for yourself."

A wide table had been placed at the front of the class. On it neatly arranged and labeled were the novelty items bought from Fred and George Weasely's store. There was already a buzz of conversation going among the students, mostly speculation about what Professor Burkle was doing with them.

"Okay, kids," Professor Burkle called when class started. "Today, we're covering the use of pre-made spells and their uses in and out of combat. For example…"


	10. Tis the Season

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.

**Part 10 – Tis the Season**

There was something in the air. A sense of anticipation and excitement was in the air. Joy and laughter rang through the halls of Hogwarts, unspoiled by the humbugs Snape and Filch.

Was it Christmas? It couldn't be because that was still a couple months away.

No, it was Quiddich season! The first match of the season was coming and all the House teams were training hard, even stealing training time on the field from each other. Everyone was getting into the spirit. Even Professor Burkle was seen grilling Madame Hootch on all things Quiddich.

Still, it was a surprise for everyone when Professor Burkle announced today's topic.

"Hi, kids," Professor Burkle said cheerily. "Today, we're going to be talking about a topic near and dear to all your hearts: Quiddich!"

A hand went up.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"What does Quiddich have to do with DADA?" Hermione asked.

"I'm so glad you asked," Professor Burkle replied excitedly.

Hermione gulped. Harry thought that she might be afraid that she had just "volunteered" for something.

Luckily, Professor Burkle just waved her wand and a miniature Quiddich stadium appeared in front of the class, complete with a team on each side. One team was red, the other blue.

"Quiddich is a sport," Professor Burkle lectured, walking through the illusory stadium like a ghost through a solid wall. She stopped behind the teams and faced. "And like any sport, Quiddich can be viewed as a kind of combat. There are two opposing sides." First the red team and then the blue brightened and dimmed in sequence. "You have offense," the chasers lit up, "defense," the beaters and keepers lit up, "and even an element of random chance," the seekers lit up, "that could make the difference between victory and defeat. And to win, both teams must use tactics and strategy, which is what we're covering."

A buzz of conversation rippled through the room.

"Now," Professor Burkle continued after a moment, "I don't expect the Quiddich team members in this class to discuss their plans here. Instead, we're going to discuss the past performance of your teams and we're going to analyze them for their strengths and weaknesses. So, who wants to go first?"

The room was immediately silent. It was so silent that Harry imagined that he could hear Professor Snape ranting at some poor student down in his dungeon.

"Hmm, okay…" Professor Burkle said, nonplussed by the lack of volunteers. Her voice deepened slightly. "Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy. Here." She pointed her wand at her feet. "Now."

Reluctantly, both boys made their way to the front of the class. Professor Burkle put them behind each of the teams. Oddly, Harry got the blue team while Malfoy got the red.

"Okay, boys," Professor Burkle continued in her cheery voice. "Why don't you both give me a quick summary of each other's team tactics?"

They both spoke at once.

"He's a cheating git!"

"He's a lucky bastard!"

"Oh, yes." Professor Burkle said dryly, eyeing them both. "Very analytical."

Harry flushed in embarrassment. So did Malfoy.

"Harry, tell us about one example of Draco Malfoy cheating," Professor Burkle said.

"Well, one time Malfoy grabbed a hold of my broom to keep me from getting the snitch," Harry said.

"And did he get away with it?" Professor Burkle asked.

"No, his team got penalized," Harry said.

"Is this true, Draco?"

Malfoy gave a reluctant, grudging nod.

"But that was not cheating. That was merely a foul," Professor Burkle pointed out. "Cheating would be if he or someone on his team had charmed one of the balls to behave in their favor, or sabotaging the other team in advance. Try to come up with a better example, Harry." Out of Professor Burkle's view, Malfoy stuck his tongue out at Harry. "We'll get back to you later." Professor Burkle turned to Malfoy, and Malfoy was suddenly the picture of innocence. "Now, Draco, give an example of Harry being lucky."

"Well, uh, there was the time he caught the snitch before I had even seen it," Malfoy said. "He charged at me, pretended to attack me!"

"Sounds like an excellent use of a deception strategy," Professor Burkle said.

Harry frowned. When had he… "Wait a minute," Harry broke in. "Was that the time the snitch was right next to your head and you didn't see it?"

Malfoy ground his teeth, but gave the barest of nods.

"Hmph," Professor Burkle said. "Now it sounds less like luck and more like a lack of awareness on your part Malfoy."

A spate of laughter rang though the class.

From there, Harry and Malfoy continued listing examples of each other's actions on the Quiddich field, and Professor Burkle continued to analyze them. She even had the illusory Quiddich teams reproduce a few plays. Eventually, the other students began chiming in. Before Harry realized it, Professor Burkle had them discussing the advantages and disadvantages of their teams.

"So in summary," Professor Burkle said near the end of class. "The Gryffindors are skilled at the actual game. The Slytherins, while not as skilled, attempt to make up the difference using distraction and physical force to offset the Gryffindors' advantage. Draco."

"Yes, Professor?" Draco replied sullenly. The discussion had left him in a foul mood.

"How successful is your team?" Professor Burkle asked.

"Not successful enough."

"So if your tactics and strategy aren't working for you to your satisfaction," Professor Burkle continued, "as team captain, you should maybe develop new, more effective ones."

"Why should…" Malfoy began, and then stopped as his face grew more thoughtful. "Yes, Professor, I will…" Malfoy glanced at Harry with a calculating expression. "I mean, I have it all worked out already."

"Good," Professor Burkle said, smiling at Draco. "I look forward to seeing it."

Harry felt a sudden chill. The first match was between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. The game between Griffindor and Slytherin, the first game of the season for both, was still a month away. That was plenty of time for Malfoy to come up with a new plan and have the Slytherin team well practiced in it.


	11. Magical Counter Measures

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.

**Part 11 – Magical Counter Measures**

The month before the Griffindor/Slytherin match saw Harry run ragged. Between homework, Quiddich training, being Professor Burkle's TA, and his very own DA, all of Harry's spare time seemed to have evaporated into nothingness.

Adding to Harry's aggravation was Malfoy's constant bragging about his new Quiddich tactics. Unfortunately, Malfoy stuck to vague mouthings of superiority and didn't get into any specifics when boasting in public. Rumors spoke of the Slytherin team practicing with two or three times the normal number of balls, but Harry didn't see how that would help them in an actual game.

"Malfoy doesn't have anything," Ron scoffed one day. "He's bluffing, pulling one of those psychotic tricks that Professor Burkle was talking about the other day."

"Psychological," Hermione corrected automatically. "But really, can we take the chance that Malfoy's bluffing? What do you think, Harry? Harry?"

Harry, who had been half listening after the exhausting day he had had, let his head slip through his hands. Harry's head hit the tabletop with a solid thunk. Later, Harry would swear that he remembered everything that was going on and that he had NOT been snoring.

---

The day of the match started out well enough. The weather was perfect, bright, sunny, and cloudless. Harry actually managed to get a good night's rest, mostly due to Hermione and Ron slipping something into his drink. The match even started well; the Slytherins weren't pulling any of their usual fouls.

Then Goyle – or was it Crabbe? – hit a bludger, sending three off in Katie Bell's direction.

Harry blinked. Did he just see what he thought he just saw?

It quickly became evident that he had. The air above the Quiddich stadium fast became clogged with far too many quaffles and bludgers. Immediately, the Griffindors ran into problems. When Katie snatched a quaffle, it turned into a rubber chicken. The same happened to Ron, when he blocked a goal or when one of the Beaters hit a bludger. Several times, the Griffindors got nailed by real bludgers. In the confusion, the Slytherins managed to score three times before Madame Hooch called a time out.

"Mr. Malfoy! Explain all this!" she demanded of the Slytherin captain.

"Why, Madame Hooch, is there a problem?" Malfoy asked innocently.

"Problem?" Madame Hooch said incredulously. "The problem is all these false quaffles and bludgers flying around!"

"Oh, is that all?" Malfoy said blithely. "There's no rule against it. At least," he pulled a thick tome out from under his robes, "not according to the latest edition of Rowling's Big Book of Quiddich."

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, you should have come to me for a ruling first…" Madame Hooch began.

"Oh, I did," Malfoy replied. "About a month ago. I specifically asked you about the use of spells in Quiddich. As I recall, you said that as long as we didn't cast anything directly on the balls or opposing players, we were free to use whatever spells we liked."

Madame Hooch and Harry just gaped at him.

Reluctantly, Madame Hooch decided not to penalize Slytherin or tell them to stop. But she made noises about revising the rulebooks and owling the International Quiddich commission.

In the meantime, Harry asked that the time out be extended a little longer so that he could confer with the rest of his team. Madame Hooch agreed.

"Look at this, Harry! Look at it!" Ron raged when the team got together. He held up a whoopee cushion and shook it angrily. Easily visible was a tag on the side was the logo for Weasely's Wizarding Wheezes. "I'm going to kill Fred and George!"

There were rumblings of agreement from the others.

"Okay, okay, calm down everyone," Harry said. "We can kill Fred and George later. Right now, we have to focus on beating the Slytherins."

"How do we do that?" Katie Bell asked, waving a rubber chicken. "We can't tell the real quaffle from the fakes. The Slytherins obviously don't have that problem."

"Or the bludgers," one of the beaters, Andrew Sloper, added.

"If I recall correctly, a finite incantatem spell ought to do the trick," Ginny suggested. "We just keeping hexing the fake balls until we find a real one."

"Yeah, that'll…" Harry paused, remembering the conversation between Malfoy and Madame Hooch. "No, we can't do that. If we hex a real quaffle or bludger, we'll have fouled."

"So what the hell do we do, Harry?" Ron asked. "Because the Slytherins keep hitting me with three "Quaffles" at once. I can't block all three goals at the same time."

"I guess I'll have to get the snitch as soon as possible," Harry said. "In the meantime, try and think up as many performance enhancing spells as you can."

The game continued. As it did, the score continued to creep up in the Slytherin's favor. Harry frantically scanned for the snitch. Finally he spotted one. He was about to dive toward it when the snitch did a very odd thing. It hit a bludger.

A quick look around confirmed that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had disappeared. There was also more than one snitch in the air. Harry suddenly recalled that Fred and George had mentioned a line of disguise charms that they had developed.

Harry did a quick count. There were four snitches that he could see. Two were behaving very much like beaters. And the third was suddenly diving for the fourth…

Harry went into a screaming dive, aiming at the fourth snitch. Snitch four weaved off to the side. Harry and snitch three, probably Malfoy, swerved to follow. The move put Harry on Malfoy's tail. As Harry's faster broom allowed him to catch up with the Malfoy snitch, something exploded between them.

Harry flew face first into a stinkbomb cloud.

He emerged from the cloud coughing and gagging. By the time he could see again, Harry saw that Malfoy was almost to the snitch. Even though it was hopeless, Harry dived towards them anyway.

The real snitch and the fake snitch were almost together when a bludger came out of nowhere and hit the fake snitch. Just before hitting, the bludger vanished, having entered the area that Malfoy's body actually occupied. The fake snitch staggered to the side, and what looked suspiciously like a pie plate trailing custard appeared arcing away from Malfoy.

Harry zoomed past Malfoy, dodged a probably fake bludger of his own, and managed to snag the snitch. Madame Hooch blew a whistle, signaling the end of the game. Jubilant, Harry turned to check out the score. His heart dropped into his belly.

The Slytherins had won, scoring 210 points to Griffindor's 170.


	12. About Face

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.

**Part 12 – About Face**

"Hey, Potter!" Malfoy taunted. "How's it feel to come in second best?"

"Harry, we have to practice more often," Katie demanded. "And how are those anti-joke measures coming along?"

"So when's the next DA meeting Harry?" asked Ernie Macmillan.

"Harry, could you show us…" Colin Creevey began.

"ARG!" Harry exclaimed barely a week after the disastrous Quiddich match with the Slytherins. "Harry, I need this. Harry, I need that. Harry, you're an awful Quiddich Captain. Harry, can you show me how to do this spell even though YOU HAVE A THOUSAND THINGS TO DO ALREADY AND NO FREE TIME AT ALL?!"

"If you ask Professor McGonagall nicely, maybe she could get you a time turner," Hermione suggested without looking up from her reading. Her nose was buried in _the Quibbler_, whose headline was shouting about invaders from another dimension.

"Oh, har har," Harry deadpanned.

"Seriously, Harry," Ron added. "If you're overloaded, maybe you should drop something."

"Like what?" Harry asked tiredly. He began ticking off fingers. "I'm Quiddich Captain, Professor Burkle's TA, DA leader. Pile on top of that things like homework and Occlumency lessons. What could I possibly drop?"

"Well, how about someone else be Quiddich captain?" Ron asked.

"You mean like Katie Bell?" Harry asked. "As Professor McGonagall told me, we've both been on the team for the same number of years. But Katie will be gone next year, so it would be better not to have to change Captains between now and then."

"How about someone else?" Ron asked.

"Like who?"

Ron just raised his hand.

Harry gave him a fish-eyed glare.

"Well, I am the next in seniority after all," Ron said modestly.

"Harry," Hermione broke in before they could get into a row. She put down her magazine. "What about DA and being Professor Burkle's TA? It strikes me that those two jobs pretty much overlap anyway."

"I can't drop the DA," Harry told her. "It teaches the advanced spells that we're not covering in class. And I don't even want to end up like the last wizard that crossed Professor Burkle if I drop being the TA."

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione replied. "I know she can be a bit mean at times, but surely Professor Burkle can't be that bad."

Harry just goggled at her in disbelief.

---

"That's it for today, kids," Professor Burkle said cheerily as she dismissed the class of Fifth Years. "And Miss Weasely, that was an innovative use of a Bat Bogie hex."

"Thanks, Professor," Ginny beamed. She joined Harry on her way out. "I really don't see why you guys find her so intimidating," she told him. "I mean, her teaching style is kinda peculiar, but Professor Burkle seems really nice."

Harry just shook his head. "You haven't really seen her when she gets mad," he replied. "Go on ahead, Ginny. I gotta stay behind and ask her something."

"Okay. Bye, Harry."

Harry turned around and went back into the classroom. He found Professor Burkle poring over some turned in homework. As he approached, she spoke with her cold and intimidating voice, the one Harry had come to associate as the real Professor Burkle. There was noting inviting about it.

"Harry Potter. You have a question." It was less a question and more a simple statement of fact on her part.

"Yes, er, I wanted to ask," Harry began hesitantly. "Why did you help Malfoy with the Quiddich game?"

"I have assisted Draco Malfoy no more than I have assisted you," Professor Burkle replied. She never even looked up at Harry, just continuing to grade the homework.

"But all the fake balls and stuff…" Harry began.

"…means that Draco Malfoy has been a more attentive student in this class than Harry Potter," Professor Burkle finished. "This is your primary concern of the moment and I have answered your question. Your duties here are complete and your presence annoys. Go away."

---

Harry Potter stormed through the halls. He was furious, practically radiating rage at Professor's Burkle contemptuous dismissal of him. Professor Burkle treated everyone but Harry with kindness and courtesy even if they were feigned. But when alone with Harry, she was rude and tactless. What was even worse was that it wasn't personal like between him and Professor Snape. Harry got the impression that Professor Burkle regarded Harry more as a doormat than a human being.

As Harry stomped through Hogwarts, passing students noticed Harry's foul mood and scrambled out of his way. So it was something of a surprise when he ran into someone. Finally, he had someone to vent his frustrations on.

"WATCH…" he began, but the words died in his throat.

"Something you want to share, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked kindly.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled.

"Quite al right, Harry," the Headmaster told him. "I believe you are still allowed a rant or two in my direction. But perhaps you should save them for when you have better reasons to rant about."

"Sure, Professor," Harry said. His rage was fast disappearing, being swallowed up by embarrassment.

"So how is our fine DADA teacher?" Professor Dumbledore asked. "I understand that you have been spending a lot of time with her."

"Well, she's okay…" Harry began noncommittally. But Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry knowingly. For once, Harry decided to tell Professor Dumbledore exactly what he thought. "She's awful! Professor Burkle is mean, uncaring, and I think she might even be outright evil. And no one else sees it because she always presents this caring, kind… I dunno, shell to everyone else.'

"Well, yes," Professor Dumbledore mused. "I did ask her to be nice."

That threw Harry for a loop. "You know what Professor Burkle is really like?"

"I know exactly what Professor Burkle is."

There was a slight pause in the conversation. Professor Dumbledore did not seem inclined to elaborate.

"So… what is she?" Harry finally asked.

"Why, Professor Burkle is this year's DADA teacher," the Headmaster replied.

Harry had a sudden impulse to start banging his head on the nearest wall.

"Er, Professor Burkle mentioned that she had some kind of deal with you," Harry said, deciding to try a different approach. "What was it?"

"That is between myself and Professor Burkle," Professor Dumbledore replied gravely. "It would be best to ask her for the details. She might even tell you."

That was what Harry was afraid of, especially HOW she would tell him. He resigned himself to getting nothing meaningful out of Professor Dumbledore today

"However, Harry, consider this," Professor Dumbledore continued. "To everyone else, Professor Burkle presents a pleasant façade. To you, she shows her true face."

"Yeah, I think I already covered that," Harry told him.

"Ah, but has it occurred to you that this is because Professor Burkle is comfortable around you?" the Headmaster asked.

"Huh?"

"To you, Professor Burkle feels no need to hide herself," Professor Dumbledore explained. "She can be her true self without fear of censure. Perhaps she even likes and respects you."

Professor Dumbledore left Harry scratching his head as turned the idea over in his mind. After several minutes, Harry voice his opinion on the Headmaster's words.

"Nah. Couldn't be."


	13. Basilisk Barbecue

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.

**Part 13 – Basilisk Barbecue**

Hogsmeade weekend proved to be a much-needed rest for Harry. For a few short hours, he could get away from homework, from spell teaching, from almost everything and just relax. He wasn't sneaking into the village. He wasn't secretly meeting with fugitives from the law. He wasn't even on a date. There was no pressure at all.

That was the theory anyway.

Hogsmeade was like a town under siege even though no one was visibly attacking it yet. Voldemort and his Death Eaters were known to be out there. The incident in Diagon Alley only heightened the anxiety even though no one was sure what had really happened. As such, Aurors were very visibly patrolling the streets. With the students visiting today, their numbers had been increased even more. And just to be safe, teachers had been conscripted to help keep an eye on things.

Upon arriving in Hogsmeade, Harry spotted Professors Firenze and Burkle pass each other in the street.

"Mars has been bright of late," Professor Firenze greeted.

"Mars is always bright," Professor Burkle replied in passing. "He was always a showoff and braggart that way."

Harry briefly toyed with the idea of following Professor Burkle around to see if he could learn more about her. In the end, he decided against it. Harry was here to relax, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Still, it wasn't easy. He knew he was Voldemort's number one target, and Harry wouldn't put it past the old snake to try another public kidnapping. On the other hand, after the fiasco in Diagon Alley, Harry figured that Voldemort would be more wary of trying another impromptu attack.

Harry knew that he wasn't doing very much relaxing. His mind kept drifting back to stressful topics like Voldemort, Professor Burkle, exams, Professor Burkle, how to get back at Malfoy, Professor Burkle, Quiddich, Professor Burkle… Harry realized what was happening when he started considering the tactical uses of Chocolate Frogs.

"Oi, Harry," Ron said as they entered The Three Broomsticks. "You got Professor Burkle on the brain."

"Tell me something I don't know," Harry groaned.

"Do you… fancy her?" Ron asked.

"What? No!"

"Well, it's just that she's pretty and kinda near our own age…" Ron began, but was interrupted when Hermione smacked him on the back of his head.

"Ron, you're not helping," she said, shooting daggered looks at Ron. Hermione then turned to Harry. "But really Harry, you need to get your mind off her."

"Won't be easy," Harry grumbled. He pointed. "She's here."

Indeed she was. Professor Burkle was seated in a booth talking to Hagrid. Or from what Harry could see, Hagrid was doing all the talking and Professor Burkle was politely listening. Or maybe she was only pretending to listen. It was hard to tell with her.

"Maybe we should go then," Hermione suggested.

"No," Harry disagreed stubbornly. "I am not going to let Professor Burkle drive me away just because she's here."

"But, Harry," Hermione said, "you won't be able to get her mind off her if she's right there."

"I know," Harry replied. "So we'll do what we always do."

"Take the next table and pretend we're not eavesdropping?" Ron asked.

"Exactly," Harry agreed, leading the way.

"…drove the sword into the basilisk's mouth and killed the beast!" Hagrid was saying as the trio took their seats. He didn't seem to notice their arrival. "What do ye think of that, eh?"

"What, the basilisk?" Professor Burkle asked. "I'm thinking it would have made a nice snack."

"Say wha?"

"Oh yeah, I remember basilisks," Professor Burkle said fondly. "Basilisks are a rare treat, very spicy." She sighed. "It seems like forever since I've had one."

"But the basilisk can petrify and even kill with just their very gaze," Hagrid said, obviously not quite believing what he was hearing.

"That's what makes them so spicy," Professor Burkle replied. "Hmm, I wonder what they'd be like with some good ol' Texas barbecue sauce."

"How'd ye get basilisks to eat?" Hagrid asked.

"I had an acquaintance who was obsessed with raising them," Professor Burkle answered. "He had a really hard time too. Basilisks tend to challenge each other by staring each other down and… well, y'know what happens then."

"Huh," Hagrid grunted thoughtfully. "So… any advice on how to raise 'em?"

Harry, Hermione, and Ron shared a horrified look with each other. They were all sharing the same thought. Hagrid trying his hand at basilisk ranching was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Nah," Professor Burkle said, much to their relief. "I was never really interested in that end of things."

"Oh." There was a pause as Hagrid pondered. "So, could I get in contact with yer friend?"

"Not really," Professor Burkle said. "He's not around anymore."

"He's dead?"

"You know what? I'm not sure," Professor Burkle said thoughtfully. "If he is, I know where his sarcophagus would be, but I really don't want to go back there."

"How can ye not know if yer friend is dead or not?" Hagrid asked.

Professor Burkle just shrugged. "I went away for a while," she told Hagrid, "and when I came back, he was… gone." Her words trailed off as something else caught her attention. Professor Burkle's eyes went wide in surprise.

Harry and his friends turned to see what she was staring at. A slightly elderly couple had entered the Three Broomsticks. They stuck out like the average wizard pretending to be a Muggle, only in reverse. The man was wearing a robe patterned after the Hawaiian shirts Harry had only seen on TV. The woman on his arm wore a robe with a desert camouflage pattern that Harry tended to associate with Muggle military uniforms.

"Hooey!" the man said loudly, his voice carrying across the whole room. "So this is Hogsmeade! Never thought we'd ever come here, eh, Trish?"

"You said it, Roger," Trish replied just as loudly. "Why, look! There's Fred! Yoo-hoo! Fred! Over here!"

"Mom? Dad?" Professor Burkle said faintly.


	14. Strange Visitors

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.

**Part 14 – Strange Visitors**

"Mom? Dad?"

For the first time since Harry had first seen her, Professor Burkle looked surprised. More than surprised, she had that deer-in-headlights, panicky expression on her face. But that only showed for a few moments before Professor Burkle affected an expression of delight.

Idly, Harry wondered what Professor's Burkle's parents were. Not what they were like, but what they actually were. After all, Professor Burkle presented a false face…

"Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?" Professor Burkle asked as her parents made their way over to her. Harry thought it odd that she would use her cheery voice with her parents, but they were in public after all.

"What are we doing here?" Mr. Burkle echoed. "Our baby girl is teaching at one of the most prestigious magic schools in the world and asks what we're doing here?"

"Silly question, huh?" Professor Burkle said.

"Why, when we heard, we just had to come and see," Mrs. Burkle continued. "We just couldn't believe it what with you being…"

"Mom, Dad, not that it isn't great to see you guys," Professor Burkle broke in, "but why didn't you send word that you were coming? You always just show up out of the blue."

"Oh we wanted to surprise you, dear," Mrs. Burkle replied. "Again."

"Plus this place ain't got no phones or Internet connections," Mr. Burkle added. "Can you believe that? I heard that these Old World wizards were old fashioned and all, but my Lord…"

"American wizards don't use owls?" Harry asked in surprise. An instant later, he was silently cursing himself for drawing attention.

"Harry! Hermione! Ron! I didn't see you there," Hagrid exclaimed.

"Hi, Hagrid," the three students chorused.

"Fred, care to introduce us to your friends?" Mrs. Burkle asked.

"Oh, sorry," Professor Burkle said. "Mom, Dad, this is Rubeus Hagrid, a fellow teacher. And these three are students of mine, Ron Weasely, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?" Mr. Burkle said, puzzled. Harry braced himself for the inevitable bout of recognition that his name seemed to draw. "Isn't that the name of some Brit superhero?"

"Yeah, I was expecting tights and a cape," Mrs. Burkle added "And someone, er… older."

Harry could feel his face go beet red.

"Mom, he's Harry Potter, not Superman," Professor Burkle said.

"Who?" Ron and Hagrid said.

"So, don't American wizards use owls?' Harry asked again as Hermione gave Ron and Hagrid a quick run down on who Superman was.

"Well, sure we do," Mr. Burkle replied. "It's great for shipping parcels, but for messages? Only backwoods Appalachian hillbillies still use owls, and lots of them have phone and Internet these days too. It's much more convenient than an owl or sticking yer head in a fireplace."

"So, Fred," Mrs. Burkle said to her daughter. "What are you teaching here at Hogwarts?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Professor Burkle said. "Harry here is my teacher's assistant."

"Well, I sure bet that she's teaching you kids a lot, eh?" Mrs. Burkle said to Harry.

"Oh, yeah, loads," Ron replied.

"Although, the content does seem…" Hermione threw Professor Burkle an apologetic look, "strange."

"Oh, I'm sure it does!" laughed Mr. Burkle.

"After all that time she spent running around with that Angel fella and his posse," Mrs. Burkle added, "our Fred ought to know all about fighting the Dark Arts."

"Who's Angel?" Harry asked, intrigued. The strange creature in Diagon Alley had also mentioned that name.

"Just a friend of mine," Professor Burkle said quickly.

"Just a friend?" Mrs. Burkle said incredulously. "Why, this is the guy who rescued you from that Pylea place, spends his time rescuin' damsels in distress and all…"

For the life of him, Harry could not imagine Professor Burkle as a damsel in distress. Unless Professor Burkle was causing the distress…

"Mom…"

"Hey, where is Angel anyway?" Mr. Burkle asked. "Or the rest of your friends?"

"Last I saw Angel, he was living a soap opera," Professor Burkle said. "Something about his girlfriend and his one true love and how they aren't the same person."

"Ooh, sounds like something they ought to put on TV," Mrs. Burkle commented.

"What's tee vee?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"So what about your other friends?" Mr. Burkle asked. "You still with that Wesley fella? He seemed like a nice young man."

Professor Burkle's face fell. "Wesley… didn't make it out of Wolfram an Hart."

"Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry," Mrs. Burkle said sympathetically.

"I hope you gave whatever got him a good walloping," Mr. Burkle added.

"Trust me," Professor Burkle said, a hint of her other self showing through, "they were good and walloped."

"So, Fred, you teach at Hogwarts," Mr. Burkle said, evidently deciding to change the subject to happier matters. "I imagine that means you gotta teach spells and stuff. How do you do that?"

"Oh, I have Harry here to help teach the actual spells," Professor Burkle said. "He's very good at it."

Harry didn't know whether to be gratified at the complement or suspicious that he had been complemented at all. In the end, he made a few incoherent noises confirming Professor Burkle's statement.

"Aw, and he's modest too," Mrs. Burkle said. "So, Harry, how does it feel to be working with a squib?"

"Mom!"

"A squib?" Harry said, alarm bells going off in his head. "Professor Burkle is a squib?"

"Yep, but our Fred never let that get her down," Mr. Burkle said proudly. "Went to university and everything. Even fought the forces of darkness with nothin' but her brains."

"But, we've seen Professor Burkle do magic!" Hermione put in.

"Professor Burkle," Mrs. Burkle sighed happily. "That sounds so wonderful."

"Ah, Fred's probably been using those techno-magical gizmos of hers," Mr. Burkle told Hermione.

"No, we've seen her use a wand and everything," Hermione disagreed.

"A wand? Fred? Really?" The parents turned to Professor Burkle. "You have a wand, Fred?"

Reluctantly, Professor Burkle held up her wand to her parents. She seemed embarrassed. Something was wrong with this picture, Harry thought.

"Why that's wonderful, Fred!" cooed Mrs. Burkle. "How did this happen?"

"Something I picked up while at Wolfram and Hart," Professor Burkle mumbled.

"There's something that can make a squib into a full fledged wizard or witch?" Hermione asked.

"I'll bet Filch would love to know what that is," Ron added.

"No he wouldn't," Professor Burkle said sadly. "The price would be too high for him to pay. For anyone to pay really."

"Fred, did something…" Mr. Burkle began.

"So, Mom, Dad," Professor Burkle interrupted, full cheer back in her voice. "How did you hear that I was teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, well, your friend told us you were here," Mr. Burkle replied uncertainly. He seemed concerned about the abrupt subject change. "Arranged transportation and everything."

"Friend? What friend?" Professor Burkle seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Why, it was…" Mrs. Burkle began. "Oh, wait. Here she is."

A woman with blonde hair sashayed up to them. Although she was pretty, gorgeous even, her prettiness seemed to be calculated, even artificial. There was something about her that just seemed wrong to Harry.

Ron on the other hand, seemed to be drooling. At least he was until Hermione elbowed him.

"Hi, Roger! Hi, Trish," greeted the newcomer. "Getting reacquainted with your daughter?" She turned to Professor Burkle. "So how have you been lately, Il…"

"Eve," Professor Burkle said. This time, there was no mistaking the out right hostility in her voice.


	15. First Contact

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka The Evil Author

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to whoever owns them. I'm just too lazy to look up who they are.

Part 15 – First Contact

"Mom, Dad," Professor Burkle said as she got up from her seat. "Excuse me a moment. I need to have a private word with my… friend."

"Nice to see you too, Ill…" Eve began.

"Come on, Eve," Professor Burkle interrupted, grabbing the other woman by the upper arm. "Let's chat." She dragged Eve toward the exit.

Everyone stared after them, all wondering what was going on. Harry broke the silence.

"'Scuse me," Harry said as he stood up, "bathroom."

As he left, Harry heard Hermione say, "So, Mr. Burkle, what's Wizarding America like?"

Popping out of the Three Broomsticks, Harry spotted Professor Burkle and Eve disappear around a corner. Harry followed. As he approached, he overheard them talking.

"…bring them here for?" Professor Burkle was saying. She was using what Harry thought of as her real voice.

"I was told you'd be less likely to try an tear my head off if I did," Eve replied. Her voice was unchanged. "Not that you could now."

"Ah, you speak of your new master," Professor Burkle said disdainfully. "I thought you had a familiar stench around you."

"I'd be careful if I were you," Eve growled, "He wants you and Angel alive, but I think he'll let beating you to a pulp slide."

"You may find that more difficult than you imagine now," Professor Burkle replied, clearly unimpressed.

"Ladies, ladies, can't we all get along?" a decidedly male voice interrupted. "No wait, on second thought, go ahead. I love a good cat fight."

"Aw, you say the sweetest things, Lindsay," Eve cooed.

"That is not Lindsay MacDonald," Professor Burkle pointed out.

"Yes, I know," Eve said coldly. "And who's fault is that?"

"Why are you here?" Professor Burkle asked. "You hardly needed to use such theatrics to contact me."

"You know me," the fake Lindsay said. "I just can't resist an opportunity to chaos and destruction. Of course, that's not gonna happen now… unless you two get it on?"

"Lindsay, I'm straight," Eve whined. She sounded remarkably like Pansy Parkinsion.

"Not what I meant, babe," Lindsay replied. "But, whoa, what an image!"

Harry suddenly realized what was being implied and felt a sudden urge for a cold shower.

"What is your purpose here?" If anything, Professor Burkle sounded even colder and less human than usual.

"You sure you want this in front of an audience?" Lindsay asked.

"It is only Harry," Professor Burkle sniffed.

Harry winced. He used to be good at sneaking around.

Seeing no point in hiding anymore, Harry stepped into view of everyone. He stayed out of arm's reach of everyone, keeping them all in sight. Professor Burkle ignored Harry, preferring to glare down the other two. The false Lindsay was a handsome man wearing casual Muggle clothing with several red splotches on his shirt that looked like… blood?

"Suit yourself," Lindsay said, shrugging. "We're here to pass on a little information about our buddies, Wolfram and Hart. Seems you guys really ticked them off last spring."

"We know this," Professor Burkle said. "Such was our intention."

"Well what you may not know is that your little coup d'etat has put Angel in charge of all of Wolfram and Hart's Earth-side operations," Lindsay continued. "And as long as Angel lives, they can't replace him."

"And since Angel will not follow the orders of the Wolf, Ram, and Hart," Professor Burkle said thoughtfully, "they must kill him before they can replace him. Thus, the Wolf's, Ram's, and Hart's continuing attacks are based on more than just petty vengeance."

"Oh, it gets better," Lindsay continued. "Wolfram and Hart have a heavy investment in Earth. You might even say they've staked their lives on this rock. Hey really need to get it back."

"That is gratifying to know," Professor Burkle said. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Old time's sake?"

"Of all of us," Professor Burkle said, "you are the least to be touched by sentimentality."

"Okay, okay," Lindsay said. "Wolfram and Hart deprived me of something I really wanted a couple of years ago. Now I get to help return the favor."

"Revenge," Professor Burkle observed.

"Another thing," Lindsay continued. "Since you and your pals destroyed Wolfram and Hart's army, they've had to resort to hiring mercenaries."

"The Illithids," Professor Burkle said.

"Among others," Lindsay said.

In the distance, Harry heard a lot of people start screaming.

"In fact, there are some now," Lindsay added.


	16. Getting an Eyeful

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

By Nopporn Wongrassamee

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: All properties belong to their respective owners who I am too lazy to look up and list.

Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, HBP has officially rendered this AU. So sue me… Wait! Don't sue me!

**Part 16 – Getting an Eyeful**

As he approached the street, Harry came across a dozen students huddled at the mouth of the alley just off the street. They included Ron and Hermione as well as several other members of the DA.

"What's going on?" Harry asked as he trotted up.

"There's some… thing out there," Ron replied. "It's been hexing everyone left and right, demanding…"

A roar from the street interrupted him. "BRING ME THE OLD ONE AND I WILL SPARE YOUR WORTHLESS LIVES!"

"…that," Ron concluded.

"Old one?" Harry said. "It must mean Dumbledore."

"That's what we thought," Hermione said grimly. "It's already petrified several people when it got an answer it didn't like. And it seems to be resistant to spells too."

Harry leaned over to take a quick peak around the corner. There in the middle of the street was the strangest creature he had ever seen. Being a wizard, that was saying something. It was a globular sack of greenish flesh hovering some five feet above the cobblestones. Its face – if it could be called that – was dominated by a gargantuan, bloodshot eye with a drooling mouth filled with scraggly, rotting teeth under it. Five tentacles protruded from the top, the end of each holding an eyeball of its own.

One of the small eyes looked in Harry's direction. Harry immediately jerked back, narrowly avoiding a hex that reduced a chunk of wall behind him into so much goo.

"What the hell is that thing?" Harry asked, shaken.

"I don't know," Hermione replied. She shook her head in frustration. "I don't recall ever seeing anything like that in any Wizarding book."

"Luna?" Harry asked, spotting the girl among the assembled students. If it wasn't in any of Hermione's books, maybe it was one of things Luna Lovegood believed in that most everyone discounted as myth.

"Sorry," Luna said. She seemed disturbed. "I've never heard of anything like it." Luna brightened, then turned to Collin Creevey. "This is wonderful. I'm sure father would pay cash for an exclusive picture of it."

Creevey fumbled with his camera, his eyes practically lighting up with dollar signs.

"So we have no idea what it is?" Harry sighed, while Collin fumbled with his camera.

"It's a Beholder."

All eyes turned to Dean Thomas. Studywise, Dean was not an exceptional student. No one had ever noticed that he was especially studious or that he had anything like Luna's esoteric interests.

"I saw it in a book once," Dean added, a bit embarrassed at the attention.

"How do you know that?" Hermione demanded. It seemed that she was a bit put out that there was some worthy book that she hadn't read.

If anything, Dean looked even more embarrassed. "My dad," he mumbled. "He plays Dungeons and Dragons. I saw the Beholder in one of his books."

"What!" Hermione squawked indignantly. "Are you saying that creature came from a Muggle _role playing game_?"

"A what?" Ron asked. Several other Wizard raised kids were also looking a bit confused.

"Never mind that," Harry interrupted before Hermione could give a lecture – or a rant – on the subject. "Dean, how do we stop it?"

"I have no idea," Dean replied. "It's been years since I've seen that book. All I can remember is that those eyestalks each cast a different spell and, ah…" Dean trailed off, looking at something behind Harry. In fact, everyone was looking at something that was behind Harry.

With the sensation of his stomach sinking into his toes, Harry turned around to find the Beholder hovering just behind him. His head was just about level with the Beholder's mouth, not a comfortable place to be.

"WHERE IS THE OLD ONE!" the Beholder bellowed in Harry's face. Its breath stank, too. Its eyestalks were all trained on Harry.

As Harry whipped out his wand, everything seemed to slow down. He could actually see the Beholder's eyes start to glow as they cast whatever spells it had. Even as he brought his wand to bear and opened his mouth to speak, Harry knew the Beholder was going to cast first.

FLASH!

The light from Collin's camera was practically at point blank range, especially given the Beholder's large eye. The flash was bright enough and a complete surprise, causing the Beholder to flinch and squeeze its eyes shut for a moment. Curses in the middle of being cast went off course, raining harmlessly into the ground around Harry.

Harry, his back to Collin, was not so affected.

The Beholder had its big eye closed for only an instant. As the massive lid peeled back open, Harry cast his Hex straight at it. Had Harry time to think, he would have been gambling that the Beholder was like dragons; although resistant to magic, the eyes of a dragon were a weak spot. The Beholder had one very large eye. It made such a perfect target.

Apparently, all of Harry's friends agreed with him. Harry's own spell was followed by a dozen other curses.

The Beholder did not last long.

* * *

The teachers would scold them for putting their lives in danger. The Aurors would be miffed that a bunch of school children had done what they could not. Closet Death Eaters and would-be dark wizards would look on and furiously reevaluate how dangerous to their plans these kids were. Others, the average wizard and witch on the street, would take this as further proof that the Boy Who Lived was the Wizarding World's champion. But all that would come later.

Before all the rest, Professor Burkle was the first adult to reach them. Without looking at any of the students, she walked up to the steaming, shapeless pile that used to be the Beholder and looked down at in contempt.

"Adequate," she said disdainfully.

Without another word, she turned and strolled away, leaving behind a dozen baffled teenagers.


	17. First Offer

Title: Harry Potter and the Ancient God King

By Nopporn Wongrassamee

Summary: The new DADA teacher is something else. Harry and the gang want to know what.

Disclaimer: All properties belong to their respective owners who I am too lazy to look up and list.

**Part 17 – First Offer**

"Harry."

At the sound of his name, Harry suddenly sat up in bed. It had been a busy day after the defeat of the Beholder. Everyone wanted something from him. Or more precisely, they wanted to make their feelings known to him. His every step had been hassled by people wanting to congratulate, wanting to express their worry, or in Professor Snape's case, his disgust at Harry's "theatrics". It was practically a relief to crawl into bed.

"Harry."

And the fans just kept coming…

"Lumos!" Harry snarled as he whipped out his wand. Couldn't he get some rest? "Look, it's late. I'm tired. If you want an autograph or something, come back… in…" Harry trailed off as he recognized the young, red haired woman sitting in the chair beside his bed.

"Hello, Harry," the woman said, smiling beatifically.

"Mom?" Harry whispered.

"Yes, Harry," the woman replied. "I am your mother. It's good to be here."

"You can't be my mother," Harry said, his head spinning. "My mom's dead."

"Well, the second part's true," the woman said, amused. In demonstration, she waved her hand through the arm of her chair. It passed through immaterially.

"But, you look solid," Harry said. "Not wispy like Nick."

"I'm not like Nick or the others Harry," his mother replied. "I'm not an echo of a once living person. I am your mother."

"But, why are you here?" Harry asked. "Why now?"

"The conditions weren't right before," his mother told him. "I can't really explain. It's something the living can't really understand. I'm here to help you, Harry."

"Help? How?"

"I'm bringing you an offering of power, Harry," his mother explained. "A far greater power than you can possibly imagine. Power enough that you can easily defeat Voldemort and his followers. Wouldn't that be something?"

"But," Harry began, struggling with the concept. Much as he was happy to see his mother, something about the situation just seemed wrong to him. "Didn't you already give me something to help defend me from Voldemort? The power of love?"

"Where did you get that idea?" his mother asked.

"Dumbledore said…"

"Dumbledore? What does that old man know?" his mother said disdainfully. "Harry, I'm offering you something greater than mere love. I'm offering you power, more power than you'll ever see in this life." She extended her hand. "Please, Harry, take my hand. Everything will become clear then."

"But…" Harry began doubtfully.

"Take my hand, Harry," his mother said more forcefully.

"What's the catch?" Harry said suddenly.

"Catch?" his mother said in surprise. "No catch, Harry. Oh, I suppose I'll ask youfor a few teensy favors…"

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, recoiling away from the creature that looked like his mother.

"Harry?" the creature said, confused. "I'm your mother."

"You are not my mother," Harry snarled, pointing his lit wand at the creature. "My mother loved me. She wouldn't put strings attached to any gifts. She wouldn't discount Dumbledore. And she sure as hell wouldn't demean her own gift of love to me!"

"How would you know, Harry?" the creature asked coldly. "I died when you were a baby. What would you know anything about me?"

"You are NOT my mother!" Harry insisted.

"Aren't I?" She smiled at Harry, an utterly malevolent expression so at odds with that beautiful face. "But mother or not, the offer is very real. Won't you take my hand?"

"No," Harry replied stubbornly.

"Harry, be reasonable. Take my hand."

"No!"

"Take my hand!"

"NO!"

"Harry?" At the sound of Ron's voice, Harry couldn't help himself. His eyes flickered to the side, toward the bed where his best friend slept. "What are you going on about?"

"Ron, watch out. There's…" Harry trailed off as his eyes swung back onto an empty chair. Looking around, there was no sign of the creature that had impersonated his mother. "Nothing," he whispered. "There's nothing here."

"That's great, Harry," Ron groused sleepily. "I always like to be woken in the middle of the night for nothing."

"But…"

"Go to sleep, Harry."

* * *

Harry dreamed.

He walked down an ancient tunnel. The tree roots penetrating from the ceiling were so thick that they nearly obscured that dirt walls. The tunnel opened up to a chamber ahead where a rickety old wooden bridge could be seen.

But an invisible, magical barrier barred further progress. In frustration, he beat at the shield with his pale, slender hand. There was little effect. To think that a Wizard of his stature and capability would be stalled by something so basic! Sooner or later he would get in.

Still, he could see inside, catch a glimpse of the prize. Beyond the barrier was vertical shaft, a pit so deep that the bottom could not be seen. And lining the walls were ancient stone sarcophagi, each one a repository of limitless power.

All he had to do was get in.


End file.
